


At the Beginning with You

by letmegeekatyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M, Sam Ships It, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-23
Updated: 2014-04-23
Packaged: 2018-01-20 14:07:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1513277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmegeekatyou/pseuds/letmegeekatyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-six different ways Dean and Castiel meet for the first time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At the Beginning with You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ismene_Jane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ismene_Jane/gifts).



> I have this amazing friend whose birthday is today. Unfortunately, she's currently very, very far away, and I can't give her a real hug or make her a birthday cake or anything, so instead, I wrote her a collection of 26 (mostly) fluffy destiel meet-cutes, one for every year of her life so far. Happy Birthday, sweetie! I love you :-)
> 
> [Content note: #22 includes a very brief mention of a character considering suicide]

1.

Dean leans against the bar and licks his lips in the direction of the dark-haired stranger. "So," he says, "did it hurt?"

"Did what hurt?"

"When you fell from Heaven." Dean laughs. "Sorry, that's a terrible line."

"I'm sure it will," the man replies, all seriousness but with mischief in his eyes. "But I wouldn't mind falling for you."

Dean is very glad he has a bar to lean against.

2.

Dr. Novak has 34 tasks to finish this afternoon, 14 patients in need of his attention, 2 hospital administrators to avoid because he is behind on paperwork, and 0 minutes of free time.

But he spends 3 minutes talking to Dean, the new pediatric nurse, about how much he likes Dean's Star Trek scrubs.

3.

It's summer, and the grass is warm with sun, and Dean and his niece have been rolling down the hills all afternoon, racing until they are laughing, breathless, sore from hitting rocks but completely happy. Then Dean gets a little carried away and keeps rolling at the bottom of the hill, until he collides with something firm that grunts at him and drops a book on his head.

He looks up to find himself practically in the lap of the man with the bluest eyes he has ever seen.

"Uncle Dean, are you okay?" Mary calls.

"Hello, Dean," the blue-eyed man says with a smile.

4.

The shoes are some cheap American crap, and Castiel resents being asked to repair them. If people would just buy decent shoes, he wouldn't be stuck patching up flimsy shit like this. He tells all this to the man who brought them in, who at least has the decency to look sheepish about it.

"So, you can fix them?"

"Yes, I can fix them, though it's hardly worth my time or your money. They'll fall apart again in a few weeks, and you'll be back here for more repairs," he grumbles.

"A few weeks? That's kind of a long time to wait for a second date." Castiel looks up, and the man is grinning at him. People don't  _grin_ at Castiel.

"This isn't a first date." Castiel answers. "A first date would be you buying me dinner tomorrow night. I get off at eight."

Now they're both grinning.

5.

 _"This was not the plan, Sam_." Dean has to yell over the sound of the wind, which is ripping sand from the nearby beach and throwing it in their eyes as they run for the car.

" _This is not my fault, you dick. I don't control the weather_ ," Sam shouts back. It had been a great idea, he thought--they hadn't been to the beach since they were kids. It wasn't Sam's fault that  _neither_ of them remembered about the hurricane barreling down on the East coast.

As they're pulling out, another figure comes running toward them, camera bag in hand, trench coat flapping in the wind. Dean stops the car, leaning over his seat to unlock the back door, and the man throws himself in.

"Hey," Sam says. "Need a ride?"

"Yes, please," he growls, shaking the sand from his hair.

"Whoa! Knock it off, you're getting sand all over my baby." Dean turns to glare at the man.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he responds, meeting Dean's eyes with a glare of his own. "Were you not aware? There's a hurricane going on outside _and there is sand everywhere whether you like it or not_."

Dean seems genuinely speechless the stranger's sarcasm, and as they sit there glaring at each other, Sam notices a shift in the atmosphere. It reminds him of the time he walked in on Dean and Rhonda Hurley in the basement, and he begins to feel distinctly third-wheel-ish. He clears his throat.

"So, where to?" Dean and the stranger look at him like they'd forgotten he was there.  _Good thing I reminded them before Dean jumped over the seat to tongue-fuck the guy_ , Sam thinks.

"The Sea View motel."

"Oh, great," Dean mutters. "And he's staying at our motel." But Sam's pretty sure he's not as upset as he's pretending to be.

6.

Castiel didn't realize quite how packed the cafe was when he got his coffee, and now he's standing in the middle of the bustle, mug in one hand, scone in the other, and there isn't a single table free.  _Shit_ , he thinks, turning around to ask the barista to put his coffee in a to-go cup.

"Hey, blue-eyes," a voice calls from a corner.  _He can't see my eyes from there_ , Castiel thinks, briefly, before he starts counting every freckle on the man's face and realizes that yes, maybe he can. If he's really paying attention. "Come join me."

Sure enough, there's one chair open at the tiny corner table, and Castiel makes his way over, careful not to spill his coffee on anyone's head or laptop.

"Thank you. My name is Castiel," he says, setting his things down. "I hope you don't mind the company."

"Not at all. Let's get cozy," Freckles answers with a smile, and Castiel is glad, because when he finally sits down, he finds the table is so small that their knees are right up against each other.

"Are you sure?"

"Totally sure," he says, adjusting his long legs so that their knees are slotted together, their calves comfortably tangled. "I'm Dean, and I love to cuddle with cute strangers."

"Me, too. The cuddling thing. Not the Dean thing." _Shit._ "My name is Castiel," he adds, blushing so hard he can feel it, but it only makes Dean smile wider.

"Yeah, so you said."

When the cafe empties out a few hours later, after the lunch rush, Castiel and Dean are still at their tiny table. If it's possible, they're even closer together than before.

7.

The theater is almost empty on Sunday afternoon--it's a cheesy sci-fi flick, not the kind of thing that draws a crowd--and Dean is happy he can sit in his favorite seat, back a few rows from the middle, where the sound is just perfect. But then some dude in a trench coat comes and sits  _right next to him_ , and who does that in a theater with tons of open seats? Personal space, man. It's a thing.

"Hey..." he ventures.

"Hello."

"Do I, uh, do I know you?"

"No. My name is Castiel," the stranger answers, sincerely unaware that there is anything awkward happening.

"Um, Dean. I just thought, when you sat next to me..."

"This seat is optimally positioned for the best acoustic experience, which is why I chose it." He seems to have a flicker of realization. "Does that make you uncomfortable?"

"No," Dean answers, surprising himself. "No, that's cool. You're right about the sound." He smiles. "That's why I sat here, too. Most people don't appreciate how much it matters."

Castiel nods. "That is true. Most people don't appreciate a lot of things."

"Like bad sci-fi?" Dean asks with a grin.

"Precisely." And the lights are dimming now, but he's pretty sure that Castiel is smiling back.

8.

They are supposed to be delivering a singing valentine to the girl sitting in the front row of the class, some cheesy pop song about angels that Castiel hates. But he can't help looking up at the boy sitting behind her as he sings, and the boy is looking straight back at him, all green eyes and leather jacket and  _beautiful_.

So later, when the boy finds him in the hallway and asks whether it's too late to buy a singing valentine for someone, Castiel says that yes, it is, but maybe he can bend the rules a little.

"Good," the boy answers. "'Cause I'd really like you to sing that one again. For me."

"Okay," Castiel says, his heart racing. "Sure. I love that song."

9.

Dean thinks he's alone in the train car as he sings to himself and dances between the seats. Sam's wedding is coming up, and he has to be able to dance with the maid of honor without breaking her feet, but it does not come naturally. "I know that music leads the way to romance," he sings, mentally counting the steps. "So if I hold you in my arms, I won't dance."

But then he hears a deep voice harmonizing with his: "I won't dance, don't ask me. I won't dance, madame, with you." He spots the man at the end of the car, singing along with a smile on his face. Dean  _wants_ to run to the next car and hide there until he can get off the train, because holy shit this is embarrassing, but for some reason he doesn't. For some reason, he holds out his hand to the stranger with a cocky grin. "Wanna dance?"

And they do.

10.

"Dude died 450 years ago, why do we still have to read this stuff?"

"Shakespeare was  _born_ 450 years ago, and it's because it's beautiful writing. Now pay attention--I've paired you all with students from the drama club, and you'll be doing scenes together for your parents in two weeks, so please do not embarrass me.  _Dean."_

 _"_ What?" Dean exclaims, mock-offended. Ms. Harvelle rolls her eyes and hands out the assignments.

Turns out, Dean doesn't embarrass anybody. Turns out, he kinda loves Shakespeare. He kinda loves Beatrice and Benedick, too. And they've only known each other for two weeks, and yeah, they're only sixteen, but Dean's pretty sure he's not just acting when he's on stage and tells his partner, Castiel, "I do love nothing in the world so well as you. Is not that strange?"

11.

"I hate this car. It has given me nothing but trouble, and I am very happy to let you set it on fire." Castiel had been thrilled when he learned that the local fire department accepted donations of cars to burn for training purposes. "And I am very glad you have agreed to let me watch."

"Happy to do it," the chief replies. "I think you'll enjoy this," he adds, giving his guys the signal to light it up. They watch in companionable silence for a while as the trainees work to put out the blaze, the chief ( _Dean_ , Castiel remembers) shouting encouragement. When it's over, Castiel shakes Dean's hand.

"Thank you again. That was most gratifying," he says.

"You're welcome." Castiel turns to go, but Dean calls him back. "Hey, you, uh, need a ride home?"

"...Yes, actually." He laughs. "I would appreciate that very much."

 _It must have been the fire_ , Castiel thinks then, _that kept me from realizing how bright his smile is_.

12.

Dean teaches kids' cooking classes in summer for the Parks Department. He doesn't make a lot of money for it, but the beat-up supplies, the kids' happy faces, the applesauce full of peels that they missed--it all makes him very happy. So he's prepared not to like the new guy in charge of summer classes, the one who's "upgrading" everything with new equipment and more experienced teachers, because where is that money coming from? They'll have to raise fees to get it, keeping out the families that can't afford the higher rates.

He's totally prepared to hate the guy when he shows up in his kitchen with a concerned look, because fuck this guy and his "improvements" and his beautiful eyes and his scruff and his crooked tie. He's the enemy.

"Dean Winchester? I'm Castiel Novak. I'm here to help with your classes."

"How, by pricing out half the kids who take them? Replacing me with someone from a fancy cooking school?"

Castiel looks confused. "No, of course not. Your students love you; I'd never ask you to leave." He steps closer, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket. "And I would never want to push anyone out of your classes. That's why I brought this."

It's a check. It's a _personal_ check for a ridiculous amount of money. Dean is speechless.

"I've been more hands-on with some of the other classes; they've really needed to be overhauled for a long time, but I don't want to change what you're doing. I just want to make it easier. New equipment, scholarships for the kids, whatever you want to use it for. I rely on your judgment."

Visions of stand mixers and expanding class sizes and adding a TA dance in Dean's head. _Dammit_ , he thinks. _I was so prepared to hate this guy._

 _"_ Thank you," he finally says, finally looking up from the check. The words feel inadequate.

"Thank  _you_. For all your hard work." He turns to leave.

"Hey, you should come by sometime. We're making pizza next week. I can teach you how to knead the dough."  _Shit, that sounded less dirty in my head_. But Castiel just nodded.

"I would like that very much."

13.

Castiel is nervous as hell. Blind dates are a terrible idea, and this place is too fancy, and he's already finished his water, which means he's going to have to excuse himself to the bathroom way too early, and why would anyone want to date him, anyway? He's surly and sarcastic, and (as Gabriel helpfully pointed out when he told him about this truly ridiculous plan) he can barely dress himself like the professional adult he is.

His panic gets even worse when the man arrives, because  _fuck_ he is gorgeous. Tall and built and freckled with these  _eyelashes_... How can Castiel possibly impress someone like--

And then it happens. His date, the Adonis, trips over someone's chair and lands, flailing, in the middle of a table full of food, sending it all (himself included) into the lap of a very angry looking woman who literally  _clutches her pearls_ in response. _Maybe_ , Castiel thinks, _this is going to work._

 _Maybe,_ he thinks, when he sees that the man is having trouble getting up because he is laughing so hard he can barely breathe,  _this is going to be wonderful._

14.

Unknown number: fuck this I'm never going to find a boyfriend.

Castiel: I think you meant to send this to someone else. But I'm sorry to hear that.

Unknown number: shit sorry. date just bailed on me to make out w the waiter. trying to text my shit brother who set me up with the dude.

Castiel: You don't have his number programmed?

Unknown number: hey its a new phone. who are you to judge anyway? don't suppose you're a hot single guy who likes guys?

Castiel: I am at least two of those things, yes. The third, you'll have to judge for yourself.

Unknown number: shit. okay. drinks at the roadhouse tomorrow night? man i hope you're local.

Unknown number: sorry i know you were probably just kidding. i'm a trainwreck. obviously. won't bother you again.

Castiel: I would like to have a drink with you. My name is Castiel.

Unknown number: wow okay yeah. 8? fuck this is weird. i'm dean.

Castiel: 8 is perfect. I look forward to meeting you, Dean.

Dean: sammy you are not going to believe the night i'm having also i'm going to kill you, you dick.

Castiel: Still me, Dean. But take it easy on Sammy. If tomorrow night goes well, you might owe him one.

Dean: haha, you got it. i'll give him a pass for now. promise i'll stop texting you now.

Castiel: Okay. Goodnight, Dean.

Dean: 'night cas.

15.

"Benny, I am not painting this room green. It's totally wrong."

"It's what Mr. Novak asked for, Dean. That's how this whole thing works; the clients tell us what to paint, and we paint it."

Dean puts his hands on his hips and glares.

"I ain't doing it. It would be a crime against good taste."

"Why is that?" A deep voice from the door startles them both. Novak is a tall man, and he leans against the doorway casually but with an air of ownership and authority.

"Uh, it's just..." Dean hesitates under his stare.

"It's alright," the client finally says. "I want to know."

"Because the windows are too big, and they look out on the garden. You've got a ton of green light in here already, it would look wrong for the walls to be green, too."

Novak glances around thoughtfully. "You know, I think you're right. I presume you have ideas about what would be better?"

"Yeah, I do," Dean answers. "Let me grab the samples from the truck," he said, hurrying out, Castiel watching him go with a small smile.

"Sorry, man," Benny says. "New guy's kind of...enthusiastic."

"No need to apologize, Benny. I like him. And he's right about the green."

16.

Castiel panics as the creature, whatever he is, pulls the knife out of his own chest and advances on him. Not a demon, definitely not human unless there was some kind of spell involved. He _looks_ human. His eyes are human, greenish in the dim light, not black or white or strange at all, except for their intensity. The lights flicker ominously.

"Tell me what you are," Castiel growls, trying to stand his ground as he approaches, ready to grapple hand-to-hand if necessary.

"I'm the angel who pulled your grumpy ass out of Hell," he-- _the angel?--_ answers with a smirk. "And that's a fine thank you I got for it, too."

17.

This is the first passenger vessel scheduled to leave the solar system. Years of carefully work have gone into making it one of the safest, strongest ships ever created. Dean should know, he had a hand in building it.

But that doesn't keep his mouth from going dry and his heart from racing as they prepare for takeoff. They're stuck in a plane-like compartment for the first part of the journey, for safety, and he can feel the walls closing in on him. He grabs at the arm rest, but is startled to find someone else's hand there.

"Dean Winchester, I presume?" Dean pulls back his hand. "I am Castiel Novak, the chief medical officer. It's an honor to meet you."

"Uh, thanks, Cas, but I'm a little busy having a panic attack at the moment."

"I noticed. I wonder if I can help?"

"You got drugs on you? The good stuff, man. I want to sleep until we're well on our way." Castiel chuckles.

"No, I'm afraid not. No one may take any drugs until after we leave atmosphere--it's a policy meant to guarantee that everyone remains lucid in case something goes wrong."

"Goes wrong?" Dean's voice breaks a little.

"Nothing will go wrong, Dean. I have been informed that the best minds of our generation built this vessel."

"Right, sure, this mind is  _great,_ let me tell you. So how exactly do you propose to help?"

Castiel reaches over to where Dean is clutching his own thigh hard enough to bruise. Gently, he pries his hand loose and twines their fingers together, bringing their hands up to the armrest again. "Like this. Does that feel better?"

"...Yeah, it kinda does."

"Try to sleep, Dean. We'll be on our way before you know it."

Dean closes his eyes and thinks back over the last weeks, the final checks and safety drills. Nothing will go wrong. Nothing can go wrong. But he pulls Cas's hand into his lap and holds on tight, just in case.

18.

"Hey, I'd like to apply for a permit to have a bonfire on the beach."

Castiel looks up from what he's doing. He tries not to be annoyed at the interruption--this sort of thing is actually part of his job, unlike the dune grass preservation project he's been working on a grant application for.

"You'll have to fill out this form," he tells the man--the tall, smiling, frankly disgustingly attractive man. "Here is a list of rules and restrictions."

"Thanks. Can I just fill it out here and give it back to you now?"

"Sure. That's fine," Castiel answers, turning back to his computer. He expects the man to take a seat somewhere--the town office has a small waiting area--but instead he stays, leaning on the counter beyond which Cas sits and tries very had not to think about how the man smells like leather and sunscreen. He fails.

"That's quite a list of rules," the man says as he hands over the form. "So, how do you make sure we're not doing things like..." he glances at the list. "...burning explosive chemicals?"

"Local law enforcement keeps an eye on things."

"So, uh, you wouldn't be coming out to check on us yourself?" The man--Dean Winchester, according to the form--leans over with a grin, and Castiel realizes he's being  _flirted_  with.

"Not...not typically, no. Unless I suspect that someone is planning to violate a regulation," he adds, stamping a permit with the date and signing it at the bottom. It's not true at all, actually. Definitely not his job, but Dean doesn't need to know that.

"So if, for instance, I were to mention that I was going to..." he checks the list again. "'...leave the fire unattended and/or in the care of minors,' you'd feel it was your duty to show up and make sure that didn't happen."

"Something like that, yes. In fact, I am very concerned that you might do just that. You seem like the type. Here is your permit."

"Well, okay then. I look forward to putting my 5-year-old niece in charge of the fire. And possibly giving her some explosive chemicals," Dean says with a wink, strolling out of the office. "Bring a case of beer," he calls over his shoulder as the door closes behind him.

Alcohol is one of the things prohibited by the list. Castiel is pretty sure Dean knows that.

19.

The solitude is nice. Up here, in the mountains, away from his family (he loves them,  _but_ ), with work totally off his radar for a week, Dean feels much more himself than he has in a while. He hikes out every morning, each time in a different direction, hoping to find something new.

That's how he comes across the waterfall. It isn't huge, but it is beautiful, broken up with branches and rocks, with what looks like a deep pool at the bottom. He stands there for a moment, looking down from the hill he's just crested, considering whether to have lunch above the waterfall or at is base, when he notices the man. The gorgeous, _naked_ man floating on his back, occasionally diving down into the water or swimming over to the bottom of the falls and letting them push the dark, wet hair out of his eyes. Dean realizes that his mouth is hanging open, and he's turning around to go find another place to eat when the man speaks.

"Well, are you going to join me? Or would you prefer to watch?" His voice is deep, and he's smiling, resting his tan arms on a rock and watching Dean in amusement.

 _Solitude_ , Dean thinks, _is highly overrated._

20.

Castiel has been in this show many, many times. It is not the first night of the run. It is not even his first scene; he's been onstage for what feels like forever. But for some reason, as soon as his eyes meet those of the man in the second row, his lines vanish like smoke into the air. He has no idea what to say next.

How can Castiel even see him? The house lights must not be down all the way--he'll have to talk to someone about that. If he ever gets off the stage. He has a sudden vision of being trapped here forever, staring into a stranger's eyes with no idea of what he's meant to say next.

But then the stranger is saying something, mouthing the words. _He knows the line_ , Castiel realizes. It's not a popular play, there's no reason for him to know it, but he does, and as he gives Castiel the line, it brings him back into character immediately, and for the rest of the night he has no trouble.

Afterward, the director comes looking for him to find out what the hell happened, but Castiel has disappeared. The propmaster thinks he saw him in the lobby, talking to an audience member, but he can't be sure where they've gone. The director goes in search of a drink to calm his nerves, muttering about _actors_.

21.

Dean is a busy man. He catches the same train every morning and every evening, he doesn't stop to talk to people, and he moves through the crowd with a determined look on his face. Until the scruffy man with the guitar starts playing on the train platform in the mornings.

The first morning, it barely registers with Dean that there is a song--he doesn't recognize it--floating above the crowd and its noise, and it isn't until the doors are closing that he spots the man sitting against the wall, guitar in his lap, singing with his eyes closed and smiling. Dean smiles, too.

The second morning, he arrives earlier than usual and stands near the man with the guitar, listening. He's singing something in Spanish, and it sounds like a love song, and his guitar case is closed. Dean almost misses the train.

The third morning, the man is playing something that was popular when Dean was in high school, and he nods along, nostalgia warming him. He lets his train go by, and he sits next to the man, not caring that it will rumple his suit.

"You're good, man. You could make some money, if you opened your case." The guitar man smiles at him, and Dean realizes suddenly how very blue his eyes are.

"That's not why I play," the man answers. "But I'll let you buy me breakfast, if you'll join me." The melody echoes down the tunnel. Dean doesn't go to work that day.

22.

Dean Winchester is raised to believe he is a weapon--his power, manifested with terrible results at his eighteenth birthday, is to drain others of their powers by touch. Uncontrollable and destructive, it steals the magic in which his people find their identities, and they reject him.

He lives as a pariah for years, until he meets Castiel on a bridge. Castiel is considering whether it wouldn't be better to jump, because nothing he has tried has been able to drown out the constant barrage of psychic impressions his power gives him--the pain, anxiety, and confusion of strangers, all assaulting him at all hours of the day.

Dean, for the first time in almost a decade, touches someone, pulling him back from the edge. And Castiel's mind, for the first time in _more_ than a decade, is full of nothing but quiet and peace. They walk off the bridge together.

23.

Dean Winchester is a renowned thief specializing in religious artifacts. He has been hired to steal a cup suspected of being the Holy Grail, which is currently in the possession of one Castiel Novak, an art historian who has been hired by a private collector to verify the cup's origins.

Castiel does his work in a private office with tight security, not that that bothers Dean. He also has a habit of working late, but Dean's employer neglected to mention it, leading to a confrontation in Castiel's work room.

Which leads to vicious arguing about the technique Castiel is using to date the grail. Which leads to professional posturing between two men who take great pride in their knowledge of the history of religious artifacts. Which, naturally, leads to some very angry kissing and, later, once the grail has been safely stored for the night and Castiel's instruments put away, to some very angry sex.

They get to talking after, sprawled naked on Castiel's carpet. That's when they figure out that they were both hired by the same man; he used an alias, but some quick decryption reveals his name: Samuel Winchester. Dean's brother and Castiel's friend.

The Grail turns out to be a very, very good fake. Dean eventually joins Castiel as a partner in business (and other things), and Sam is entirely too smug about the whole thing for Dean's liking.

24.

Castiel runs in the early mornings, before the sun and the neighbors are up. He runs through the park, past the picnic benches, around the playground, and down the street to the library before returning home.

One morning, there's a young man lying on one of the picnic tables. Not distraught or injured, that he can tell. Just lying there, watching the sky overhead begin to lighten.

"Are you alright?" Castiel asks, slowing to a walk as he approaches the man.

"My kid brother got into Stanford."

"Oh, I'm... I'm sorry? Or congratulations? I'm not sure which is appropriate."

"Both, I think." The young man sits up, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know what I'm gonna do without him. Been up all night thinking about it. Sorry, don't know why I'm telling you this."

Castiel sits beside him on the table. "I have a brother. A few of them, actually. Sisters, too. But I'm the one who moved away."

"Sounds rough. That's a lot of family to miss."

"I do. And so will he." The man looked up at him in confusion. "Your brother--he'll miss you more than anything. But you'll both be okay."

"Thanks. Thank you."

25.

It's Dean's first day in a new school. Second grade. And it's Valentine's day, which means every kid is getting cards except for him, because his stupid Dad didn't give the school enough warning, so he doesn't even have a box to put the card the teacher made for him in. It's an ugly card with a puppy on it, and he shoves it in his desk. This school is awful. He hates it. And he hates the other kids, and he hates his Dad most of all.

But when he comes back from lunch and opens his desk, there's a pile of cards inside, and every single one of them is addressed "To ~~Castiel~~ Dean." That means that they were for the dark haired boy who sits in front of him, but now they're for Dean. He didn't have any Valentines, and now he has so many he can't carry them all.

"Hey, Cas," he whispers. "Hey, this one's for you," he says, handing him the card from the teacher, except now it says "To ~~Dean~~ Cas." Castiel looks surprised, then happy.

"Thank you, Dean. I love it."

26.

After business has quieted down, Castiel's dividing up the tips when a tall, green-eyed man walks up to him. He recognizes him as someone they sang "Happy Birthday" to earlier in the evening.  _Happy Birthday, dear_ _Dean_.

"Can I help you, Dean?"

He seems embarrassed that Castiel remembers his name.

"Yeah, I just...I wanted to tell you it's not really my birthday. My friends put me up to that, and I'm really sorry. I know it's a pain for you guys to sing and everything, and I wanted to pay you back for the cake."

Castiel looks at him closely. He's had people fake their birthdays dozens of times, he's sure, but no one has ever apologized for it.

"When is your birthday?" he asks.

"Um, it was in January."

"Well, happy belated birthday, Dean. The cake is my treat."

"Thanks, man. That's...that's cool of you." Dean runs his fingers through his hair. "So, when's your birthday?"

"Next week, actually. Wednesday."

"I don't suppose there's any chance I can take you out for dinner to celebrate?" He shakes his head. "Sorry, you probably have plans with your friends."

"No!" Castiel says, maybe too quickly, but Dean looked like he was going to leave. "I don't have plans, actually. My family is having a terrible, awkward brunch for me on Saturday, but that's all. I'd...I'd like to have dinner with you."

Dean smiles widely, no longer feeling awkward or nervous, and Castiel suddenly doesn't feel nervous at all. He writes down his name and number on a menu for Dean.

"Thanks, Cas," Dean says, reading it before putting it carefully in his pocket. "Going to make sure you have a great birthday. Won't even make the waiters sing to you. But, uh, maybe _I_ will. If you're lucky."

And Dean looks so happy, Castiel can't resist leaning forward to kiss him, quickly and sweetly.

"Wow," Dean murmurs. "Maybe it is my birthday."


End file.
